Now that you have a
chance to think about it, you're pretty sure that you saw a movie on the
Sci Fi Channel called "Paradise Nightmare." As you recall, it "starred"
one of the lesser Baldwins, and was a tale of an island vacation gone
horribly wrong, complete with poor acting and bad CGI. That must be what
the pushy voice in your head was getting at: you are to go home and
watch crappy movies on daytime television. This little side quest must
have simply been a way for you to lay your hands on a decent TV. "Pat,"
you declare with supreme confidence, "I'll take the entertainment
center." You walk over and try to drag your prize away, but Pat gives
you a lighthearted slap on the back and tells you that you'll get your
prize later. Once the cameras are off, though, he smacks you on the back
of your head and demands the photo. You hand it over, and remind Pat
that if he ever wants to just hang out, you're available. Man, look at
that vein, you think to yourself as Pat shoves you off the stage.
Six to eight weeks later, a large truck shows up in your driveway. Sure
enough, it's not just another trucker mistaking your house for a
state-sponsored rest stop; the driver unloads your entertainment system,
gets your signature, and departs before you can extend an invitation to
hang out. There's something odd about this entertainment system. You
can't quite put your finger on it. On the show, the entertainment center
was a six-foot cabinet that held a TV, VCR, DVD player, and speakers,
but this one appears to be little more than a box full of planks and
screws (which is NOT a double entendre). It slowly dawns on you: that
fiend, you mutter. He sent it to you with some assembly required!
Well, you don't have all the tools required to assemble it, per se, but
with a few quick substitutions, you're able to put the thing together
with what you've got. Sure, a couple of screws are a little loose from
your using a penny instead of a screwdriver, and several of the planks
are creaking a little bit because you took some "creative liberties"
with the assembly directions, but other than that, it looks just fine.
For the final touch, you place the TV on the high shelf. The
entertainment center pictured on the box didn't have a shelf this high,
but you feel safer with your TV high enough off the ground to deter
would-be thieves. After some serious lifting, you manage to position the
TV just right, and it stays there… for about three seconds. At that
point, the supporting plank buckles just enough to drop the thing right
on your head. You should've sprung for a flatscreen.